


Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

by ACourtofSnakesandStars



Series: Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst?, Blood, F/M, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Talk of Death/Dying, fluff?, injury detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29695041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACourtofSnakesandStars/pseuds/ACourtofSnakesandStars
Summary: A little bit of Mando pov for you all!! It’s a shorter chapter, just kind of the same as the previous but from our Space Dad’s point of view this time. Though there may be a little hint of your decision at the end…AN: There’s a very small ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ reference to a certain Dornish prince and his nickname in here too. Wonder if you’ll find it?
Relationships: Din Djarin x reader, The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader
Series: Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171574
Kudos: 13





	Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

_Mando’a Translation: Tor_ – justice 

He always thought it would end like this. Never in some big blaze of blaster fire or with his ship, but in some back alley, bleeding out, alone. 

Hell, maybe he deserved it. He’d killed enough people to warrant this end, slumped on the floor, too weak to save himself. 

He didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, a Mandalorian’s death. Not after all he had done.

Of course, it was his duty, his honour as a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter but… that sacred Creed did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him at night, the whispers that hissed in his ear during his waking hours. 

He almost laughed at himself. 

The Creed was all he had. 

Until…. Until the kid had come along. 

Until he saw that little wrinkly baby in the crib and… it had all changed. 

He couldn’t kill it, _him_ , couldn’t take it back to the Client or his Clones. 

One look at that damn little silver ball, and eveyrhting went straight out the window. 

Fuck the Guild code. He would never kill a child, an innocent being that couldn’t even talk, could only make those little cooing sounds that even he had to admit were adorable. 

Rescuing him… it had given him something to live for. Something to fill his days and a reason not to go hurtling helmet first into danger with no regard for his own safety. 

Except… well, no. That wasn’t strictly true was it. He’d become more reckless since that moment, the rules that his bound his life for so long were slowly coming undone bit by bit. All of which made him so reckless, so… desperate?

You only had to look at the sheer amount of people lining up for his and the kid’s head to prove that. 

So maybe he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but they were still alive, weren’t they? Had friends to help them if he needed it. 

In a short time, he’d gone from being Judge, Jury and Executioner, to being the person that people called when they needed help. Sometimes people didn’t even call him. He just showed up and offered his services. 

And truth be told… he liked it. He liked people looking at him with hope and admiration, rather than fear and jealousy. He liked the way people fussed over the kid, asking if Mando was taking good care of the child. Like they were a family. 

A Clan.

The sigil on his armour said as much. Him and the kid. A unit of two rogues. 

That’s what it all came down to, in the end. Everything was to keep Grogu safe. That’s why he stuck to the Outer Rim, taking jobs that would draw him further away from those that relentlessly hunting them, those who wanted to harm the Child. Besides, he needed the credits that came with the big jobs. Taking care of the little womp rat was expensive. Not to mention there was always something falling apart on his ship. 

So, when that guy in the hood had cornered him in the bar, given him the fob and told him about the bounty that no one could catch, he’d taken it without a thought. He’d had so many over the years that were supposedly uncatchable that the word had nearly lost its meaning. And this stranger had obviously sensed that, explained that it was true. Reeled off the sheer amount of hunters that had been sent that way, Imps, Trandoshans, Empire workers, IG-11 robots, even another Mandalorian. After hearing that list, Mando had expected some high-level bounty. An escapee from the deepest pits of the darkest prisons, someone who had done terrible, terrible things.

So… when he’d activated the puck, and the hologram of a woman’s face had come up… he was shocked. This woman… she was beautiful. Still young. She didn’t look like she bathed in the blood of her enemies, or killed children and babies, she looked… well, not exactly harmless. There was a glint in her eyes even on the hologram, a spark that warned of danger, promised pain to anyone that tried to hurt her. 

A survivor’s look. 

Something niggled at him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It might have been hesitation, but he ignored it. The bounty over her head was enough that he could take Grogu to one of those sanctuary planets and lay low for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. The kid deserved it, to be able to play and explore. 

And himself… Maker, he was just so _tired_. 

So, he’d pocketed the puck and the fob, didn’t ask who the client was, went back to the Crest and then he was on his way to Sorgan. 

Maybe it would take him a little longer than usual to bring the girl in, but it was nothing that he hadn’t done before. After all, stealing back the kid, breaking into a prison, everything else that had occurred recently… this was a walk in the park. 

He still believed that, right up to tracking you. Even when he chased you. 

He had to admit, he did love it when they ran, even if his back was killing him. 

Something about the chase, the frantic fear of the prey as he hunted them down, the conclusion inevitable. It thrilled him. 

But… this felt.. different. 

_You_ were different. You fought like it was a dance, whirling across the clearing and around his punches like there was a song only you could hear. And you were taunting him _, laughing_ as you did. You lived for this, like you had been bred for it. No… you’d been shaped by it, shaped by the choice of cowering or turning into a wolf. A wolf, like those he’d seen in Lothal.

You were strong, you fought well, he had to give you that much. He knew he would have to work for it, but with the promise of safety lingering, he matched you move for move, determined to hold this out as long as it took. 

He’d read your file, read what had happened and used that to his advantage. The words had come easily, even though they had stirred something inside him, perhaps a mirror of the feelings he was encouraging in you. 

But then… then you just gave in. Straight away. And not like the others did. Not in the way that they had, thinking it would make him go easier, change his mind.

No, you had completely, utterly given up. He saw it in your eyes. Saw that survivors glint gutter out, a wolf tamed back into her cage with her tail between her legs. 

And… it threw him. He had touched something, caught something deep within you as he taunted you. Something broken… that again whispered to his own deepest thoughts. Like calling to like. 

He’d ignored it, pushing that thought back into the part of his minds where his darker thoughts lay slumbering – for now. He’d carried you back to the Crest, shackled you to the wall and had made to leave you there. 

Only, he had seen that the wound on your shoulder was torn open again, ripped by your fight and his jamming with the rifle. It was bleeding through your tunic, and even with unconsciousness heavy in your body, you still looked somewhat pained. 

He’d hovered there, staring at the bleeding wound and having some kind of internal battle. 

_It wasn’t fatal. It was just a recent injury that had torn open. You’d be fine._ He nodded, turning around and making all of one step. 

But. A Trandoshan had been the last person to hunt you. They relished in the hunt, had probably fought dirty and used a poison. _It might be infected._ What if you died on his way back to dropping you off? Or got really, really sick?

 _Nevermind. The messenger for the Client stated you had to be brought back alive. Alive didn’t mean whole._ He carried on walking, trying to focus again on something else… only to pause a couple of metres away. 

_Help her._

The Mandalorian had turned back around to look at you, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips. He moved through the ship, grabbing a med-kit and then practically stormed back to you, nearly ripping your tunic as he’d eased up the sleeve. 

It wasn’t too bad, a deep wound but it hadn’t been infected, yet. He cleaned it up, spraying it with the last of his bacta-spray and binding it with the last strip of bandages. He’d have to get some more soon, dig up some credits from somewhere. 

A cruel reminder of why he took this job. What you were. A bounty. That’s all. 

Muttering a string of curses, he finished binding your wound, wrenching his hands away and then made his way back upstairs. 

_A bounty. A means to an end. The way to getting a break that his aching body craved for._

_He was hunter. You were prey._

That was the mantra he had to keep repeating to himself when he’d brought you up to the cockpit. 

Had to keep repeating when you were teasing him, which simultaneously ground on his nerves but also made his skin tighten in a way it hadn’t for a while. 

It had been a long time, so long since he’d that kind of verbal play with someone. 

Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had _any_ kind of play with anyone. He just didn’t have the time anymore, not with Grogu and not when everyone knew who he was. _How could you trust someone enough to sleep with them when nearly everyone wanted to kill you?_

His new mantra had echoed in his head when you began to verbally poke at him, hitting home about being lonely. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you knew you’d hit a nerve. But thankfully you stopped. 

But not before that broken thing had called between you again. Your words were spoken with too much ease and casualness, someone who knew all too well the loneliness and starvation for touch and companionship. 

_Maker, he had to get rid of you soon._

It had almost been a relief to find the small bounty on this planet. You’d been asleep, the kid asleep too so he’d gone. He didn’t need to wake either of you up, you knew why you were here - he’d told you so this morning. 

Besides, it was a small planet, easy prey to catch when everyone here feared the dark. He’d be back in a few hours. 

With the way he was so wired, he’d probably be back in two. 

That’s the way it was meant to happen. 

Track down the bounty, disarm, bring him back, freeze him in carbonite and Mando would have you back in the sky before you’d even woken up. 

And it had happened that way initially. He followed the sharp tailed bounty from the fighting pits to a cantina. Had to sit and listen as he boasted about some girl he’d bedded the night before and had screaming his name. He then, of course, launched into detail of said night, drawling about this girl in such a derogatory way that it took all his training and restraint not to just shoot this creep in the head there and then and be done with it. 

But, the Mandalorian had endured it. Sat there for an hour or so and then followed him out into an alleyway. Mando kept hidden as the bounty had spoken to a friend, talking about another girl he’d seen. Apparently, this one was even better than last night. He had it on good authority that this girl would be game for anything he wanted to do and more. 

And then Spikey had started describing again, in detail, what he would do. And Mando had been disgusted, angry that this creep was talking about a woman this way, such sick and derogatory things. Spikey’s friend asked if this ‘slut’ had a name. 

And then…

 _Your name._ That’s what he said. 

And that’s when it went wrong. 

Your name had barely come out of this animal’s lips when a red haze clouded over the Mandalorian. Everything in him screamed violence and his body went on autopilot, attacking this vile waste of space matter so quickly he hadn’t had time to breathe. Mando didn’t even notice the friend bolt, running away. He was just so focused on taking down the bounty, ripping him apart for what he’d said about you. This one would be brought in cold. He would say that it put up a fight, tried to kill him so Mando acted in self-defence. 

His previous mantra of the last two days was forgotten, overtaken by a need to defend you, make sure this guy stayed the hell away from you. Bring him down, freeze him in carbonite and get off of this planet. He fell back into that haze, relying on his skills and instincts. 

Except… except that when the haze cleared, he wasn’t leaning over the body. 

No, he was the one being pinned against the wall by the bounty, with a strength he hadn’t realised Spikey possessed. _What the fuck was he?_

Escape training came to him now, but before he could disarm and kill, the bounty began to spew those vile thoughts about you again. About how Mando was keeping you tied to a bed, for his own pleasure. How he was going to take you, ask to keep you, use you-

And then for the first time in his life, Mando forgot his training. He forgot about blocking and defensive maneuverers. He forgot about the myriad of weapons on his body, the Whistling Birds, the flame-thrower _._

He reached out in a blind fury to throttle this creep. 

He left himself open to attack. 

That was the first time he royally fucked up tonight. 

Pain had suddenly become a living thing in his side and waist as he slid down the wall, and then his only thought wasn’t of survival, it was of the kid, and you. 

You were back in the ship, both of you safe at least. Maybe you would know how to fly, know how to get yourselves out of there and run, escape. That’s what he’d hoped. You were smart, you were a survivor. You’d take the initiative and get yourselves out. Besides, he might not have admitted it, but he trusted you with Grogu. 

And then like he’d fucking summoned you… there you were. Launching into Spikey Tail’s side and getting him away. He could only watch as you engaged him in the fight, taunted him with that same tone you’d used on him. Only this time, he could watch you. 

_Beautiful._

There was no other word for it, as much as he might not have wanted to admit it. You fought like it was a dance, that prowling wolf in you giving way to a viper, striking and falling back with all the grace of dancers he’d heard about performing in Coruscant. 

He was almost breathless as he watched this deadly game – though that might have been the blood loss and blow to his head. 

He thought he might be sick when the sound of your ribs shattering bounced off the slick metal walls, the muffled cry of agony it tore from you. 

But still, the taunts kept coming, and he couldn’t help himself when you complained that Spikey Tail talked too much. You had possibly two broken ribs and yet you were still a cocky little shit. The impressed, huffing laugh that came from his lips was loud enough to be heard by you. 

And that was his second fuck up of the night. 

What started as an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest as you turned and smiled at him, had immediately frozen his lungs as Spikey slammed you against the wall, strangling you. 

Fear shot through Mando, colder than his body had begun to feel. He tried to get up, tried to help you but he couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him. 

He couldn’t save you. 

He was going to watch you die defending him. 

_Just like his parents._

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, not again. He swore against his body, gathered every remaining ounce of strength that he had and reached for his blaster, just as those sick comments of degradation and ugly lust began to fall from your attacker’s lips. 

All he needed was to give you an opening, just one tiny opening and you would do the rest. 

Spikey’s lips were creeping toward yours, fear bursting in your eyes as you scrambled for the vibroblade sheathed against your thigh. 

An opening, that’s all he had to do. 

And he did. He managed to haul his body back from the edge of death long enough to shoot the guy in the back. 

You took your opening. 

He saw the flash of your vibroblade, heard the muffled, wet noise as it sunk into his bounty’s neck. 

The guy fell to the floor in a dead weight. You dropped too and he managed to see you gasp for air, assure himself you were mostly okay before that flame of energy guttered out so quickly, he saw stars. 

Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision as he felt his life slip through his fingers – literally, his other hand was pressed to his side in an effort to try and staunch it but he didn’t have the energy to. 

This was it then. 

The way he would go. 

Nothing noble, or heroic. 

Bleeding out in a back alley. The creatures in the dark would take him soon enough. 

At least you would be able to take the kid and run now. At least there was that. 

And then he felt hands knocking his way, significantly smaller hands push into the wound. He couldn’t even make a noise of pain; it didn’t hurt anymore. His vision cleared again and there you were once more, leaning over him with blood sprayed over your face, falling from a cut on your cheek. 

_No. No._

_What were you doing??_

_You were supposed to escape. You were supposed to flee the mess he’d bought you into and take the kid and run._

He tried to speak, to convey these thoughts to you but his lips had stopped responding. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. But somehow, it was like you got what he meant. 

Your hands began to lift, and he had a weak wave of relief that was marred by the fresh soaking of blood that oozed out of his side. How much had he lost now?

Too much, by the cooling temperature of his body and the trembling that had begun. 

He had come close to death before, so many times before but this felt different. This felt like he was losing something. Something that was just within reach but he hadn’t had the chance to grasp at yet. And it was being wrenched away, taken from him and trickling over the stones beneath him in a deep, scarlet puddle. 

Maybe he’d begun to hallucinate too, because you were back, leaning over him, hands pressed into him again like they could stop the blood. He lifted his eyes and something in him curled up and panged when he saw that you were already gazing at him. 

Gazing right into his eyes. 

How you knew where they were, how you looked through the blackened visor without seeing, he didn’t know. But he could read the war raging inside of you, the battle off stay or go. 

_Go._

Mando tried to talk again, but only managed a faint noise, a croak that sounded so pitiful, he might have cringed at himself had he not started to hear a ringing in his ears. Time was nearly up, ticking away his life and that glimmer of something. 

So, he instead just looked at you. You were clearly not made up yet, so he did something selfish. 

He put his life in your hands. 

If you left him here to die, he deserved it. It was justice. Justice for every ounce of pain he’d caused. The grief he’d doled out to mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children. 

Justice for the life of treachery he had all but dumped Grogu into. 

Justice for letting his parents die for him and not save them. 

_But, if you let him live…_

Then he would try harder. He would repent for his mistakes. 

He would make sure you were dropped somewhere safely. You couldn’t stay with him, he wrought death and destruction to those around him whether he meant it or not 

But he could take you somewhere safe, maybe to Greef and Cara. 

Then he would hunt down whoever came after you next, giving you the respite that he was going to keep for himself. 

They were the options. 

A deserved death, or a new determination to set right his mistakes. 

These thoughts swum through his hazy brain at a surprisingly rapid pace, only a few seconds worth of time as he still watched what you would do with this choice. He could see that you understood, understood the choice he had selfishly bestowed upon you. 

_Only it was too late._

Heavy darkness thundered over him in an unrelenting tidal wave and with a choked gasp, he was dragged under, so deep he might have imagined your arms winding around his battered body, hauling him to his feet as much as you could. 

His brain giving him one last reprieve, perhaps, or maybe a cruel taunt to what might have been before he was sucked under and everything went numb. 


End file.
